Three-Quarters of an Hour

Last night I partially watched a movie called "127 Hours," the incredible yet true story of a young hiker named Aron Ralston who amputated his own arm in order to free himself from a giant rock that had fallen on him, and also from certain death. I say "partially" because for much of the film I covered my eyes, cautiously peering through splayed fingers every so often to see if the coast was clear. Half the time it was not.

While the story was certainly one for the record books and the young man involved is surely some kind of real-life superhero, I simply could not relate. The truth is, while I tolerate pain pretty well when it comes upon me from an outside source, I can't inflict it on myself. This means I cannot remove a splinter from my own finger, and I definitely-- under no circumstances-- would not break my own arm--forget cutting through tendons and severing nerves. In fact, should such a fate befall me, I would arrange myself nicely and prepare to meet my maker. My declaration of this fact spurred a lively debate with my husband and son, who both said they would definitely go the amputation route, or at least try. (Men!)

Today I awoke still thinking about the whole ordeal, and considered carefully why the film was made and what could be gleaned from it. After all, that's just what happened to that one guy, and it could only happen to me if I go hiking alone in Canyonlands, which is doubtful since I live in Maine. Still, the movie was nothing if not a cautionary tale, and one never knows when one will meet up with his or her own 800-pound boulder. The truth is, we must be ready for anything! So this morning as I prepared for my 45-minute walk, leaving a detailed itinerary should I not return in a timely fashion, I thought of what I might need should something go awry. Usually I just take along some water and my cell phone, but with images from that movie still fresh, I used my head. Filling my rain slicker's pockets with a Swiss Army knife, two energy bars, a pack of Ricola honey and lemon throat lozenges, matches, a rope, some Band-Aids, a tube of Neosporin, a cheese sandwich, a banana, a flashlight and the aforementioned water bottle and cell phone, I headed off on my 3-mile trek around South Freeport Village. You just never know.